Busman's Holiday
by luckypixi
Summary: Gregory Lestrade starts getting concerned that Mycroft Holmes is going to work himself into an early grave. He decides to book them a holiday, a nice relaxing holiday in the sun. And in a tent. Mycroft is not best pleased, but slowly comes to appreciate the smaller pleasures and that life isn't just about work. Lots of humour, Mystrade Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi!**

**So, I've just got back into Sherlock fics and back into Mystrade :D **

**I hope you enjoy this fic- it will be humour based much in the same way as 'Surviving the Storm' (one of my first Sherlock fics…I know a lot of people liked the humour and dialogue in that one, so I hope to recreate it here)**

**I really hope you enjoy this fic as I know I will enjoy writing it!**

**I'd be so grateful if you could leave a review!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards…**

It was the door closing that woke Greg Lestrade up; no matter how hard his partner, Mycroft Holmes, tried to be quiet when he came in late, he could never quite manage it.

Greg sighed contentedly and turned in their shared bed, peering to look through the darkness at the luminous bed-side clock. _3.27am. _

He turned back over and closed his eyes. In the darkness the sounds in the home were magnetised; he heard Mycroft cough and yawn, trying hard to stifle it with his hand. He smiled as Mycroft went through his routine- umbrella on stand, keys on side, shoes neatly lined up behind the door. Same every night; something he loved about Mycroft.

Their bedroom door, always kept slightly ajar, slowly crept open as Mycroft padded through into the room. He kept quiet and still, adding some heavy 'sleepy breathing' for more effect. He felt the bed dip as Mycroft sat down to take off his socks and trousers.

'Morning.' He said loudly.

Mycroft gasped and coughed, jumping off the bed in shock.

'Gregory!' he scolded, hand on his heart. 'I thought you were asleep, love' he added softly.

'I was, until you came in' Gregory crossed his arms behind his head, smiling, boyish face illuminated as Mycroft turned on the bedside lamp.

'I'm sorry I woke you' Mycroft told him in an apologetic tone. He leaned forwards and kissed Lestrade on the cheek.

The Detective Inspector frowned. 'Is that all I get?' he asked sarcastically, as Mycroft moved away.

The Government Official smiled and leaned back in again, capturing his partner's lips in a soft kiss.

'Thank you' Greg grinned, stretching.

'You're most welcome' came the reply. Mycroft yawned again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and folding it up.

'Busy day, love?' Greg asked, moving over as Mycroft climbed into bed with a loud sigh.

'Very.'

'Up to much?'

'I was organising a meeting with United Nations dignitaries to deal with the issue faced by…' he trailed off, looking quickly at Greg. 'But you don't need to know about that.' He finished smoothly.

Greg grinned; one day he would get him to spill something big. He opened his mouth to reply when a shrill noise interrupted him.

He watched Mycroft close his eyes and hiss his breath out between his teeth.

'Answer it' Greg told him, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He felt Mycroft move off the bed and walk over to the dresser. His ringtone stopped as he answered his mobile.

'Mycroft Holmes speaking…one moment, please'

Mycroft shot an apologetic look at his partner as he quietly walked out the room, shutting the door behind him.

Greg huffed out a laugh, sniffing. He checked the clock again. _3:36am. _He looked out the window on his side of the room; the world was starting to wake up.

He looked up as Mycroft walked back into the room.

'I'm sorry about that' he said, as he lay back down in the bed.

Mycroft's face was outlined against the soft orange glow; he had rings under his eyes and his face looked slightly thinner.

'You look knackered.' Greg told him, face serious. 'As my Mum used to say; your eyes look like "piss-holes in the snow"'

Mycroft blinked, head turning slowly to look at his boyfriend. 'That's an interesting turn of phrase' he mused.

'I like it' Greg shrugged, leaning over and gently clicking off the lamp. Mycroft leaned forwards and pressed a kiss into Greg's head as he passed.

Lestrade chuckled, relaxing into Mycroft's embrace, leaning his head down to rest on his shoulder, arm casually circling his body.

They lay like that for the next ten minutes in silence. The darkness was comforting, as well as the noises of inner London around them.

'My?'

No answer.

'My?'

Still no answer. Greg looked up, eyes concerned.

He smiled as saw his boyfriend through the darkness.

He was fast asleep.

-x-

'I told you it was the gardener'

Greg sat behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. Sherlock Holmes was bouncing on his heels in front of him with barely composed superiority, while John Watson stood slightly to his left, looking out the window.

'Yes, thank you, Sherlock' muttered the DI, standing up and stretching. Mycroft had taken another three phone calls that morning before they finally settled down to sleep; he himself was called out to a crime-scene at 6.15, unusually leaving Mycroft in bed.

'Well, it was fairly simple.' Sherlock told him, breaking into his thoughts. 'You only had to look at the dirt underneath his finger nails and the colour of rust on the soles of his shoes-'

'I think he's got the idea, Sherlock' cut in John, looking towards Greg, who was staring down at his paperwork with a glazed look in his eyes.

'My brother been tiring you out, has he?' Sherlock asked. John looked on with an open mouth and an 'I don't believe you just asked him that' look on his face.

Greg looked up sharply. 'No, he hasn't.' he said tartly.

'You seem distracted' said Sherlock flippantly, bending down to inspect a toxicology report on Lestrade's desk.

'Thank you'

Sherlock smirked and didn't look up. 'His texts seem to be getting rather abrupt, I've noticed. And you don't seem to be talking about him quite so much as you once did'

'Yeah, well.' Lestrade yawned again. 'He's busy.'

'Sat behind his desk in total silence, ordering other people do unimportant things and occasionally pouring himself a rather expensive whiskey is not what I'd call busy, Inspector.'

Greg closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. He'd become used to Sherlock's sly digs at Mycroft and he refuses to rise to them. It's not worth the argument.

'Yes, well' John coughed and broke the stalemate. 'We'd better be off; things to do'

Sherlock looked up sharply. 'What things?' he asked with his eyes narrowed.

'Thing things' John rolled his eyes, grabbing Sherlock by the arm and pulling him towards the door. Greg shot him a thankful look as John left, and sat heavily behind his desk.

He and Mycroft had been growing apart, he thought. The few hours they spent together, they spent sleeping; exhaustion was something not easily beaten on four hours of sleep a night. They needed something to push them back together, something to unite them again.

He opened a new tab on his computer and pulled up a search engine.

He smiled as he typed.

-x-

Gregory pushed open the door of their flat and was greeted by the warm smell of food. An oriental, spicy smell was permeating their home and his stomach rumbled.

'My?' he called as he toed off his shoes and put his case files on the side-board.

'In here, love.' Mycroft answered from the kitchen.

Gregory smiled as he made his way through the door to their kitchen. Black granite worktops and metallic grey walls gave the room a sophisticated vibe. In his opinion.

'You're cooking?' he asked, smiling at the unexpected sight of Mycroft at the stove.

'No, I'm writing a sonnet.' Mycroft laughed, his smile filling his face. Gregory walked forwards and put his hands around his waist, leaning on his shoulder from behind. He sniggered as Mycroft yawned again.

'Another long day?'

'Every day is long'

Gregory hummed, before moving to the fridge. He got out a 25cl bottle of red wine for Mycroft (he didn't drink the stuff) and a can of lager out for himself. He poured them into respective glasses and sat himself down at the dining table, which was in the corner of the room, next to a large window overlooking St James's Park.

'My…' he started, reaching into his pocket.

'Hmmm?'

'Don't be angry'

Mycroft spun around. 'Gregory?'

'Promise me?' Greg looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

Mycroft's own eyes narrowed and he sat carefully down in the seat opposite Greg. 'I promise' he said slowly.

'I've booked us a holiday.'

Mycroft blinked.

'You've done what?'

'Booked us a holiday' repeated the Detective Inspector. 'Come on! You need a break.'

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his temples.

'Where?' he asked finally.

Greg smiled broadly. 'North Devon.'

Mycroft stared at him. 'Don't tell me…'

'Yep' Lestrade grinned at the look on Mycroft's face.

'We're going camping!'

**Oh, am I going to love writing this fic! :D**

**Please leave me a review, let me know what you think…the actual destination is somewhere I've personally holidayed, so I'll know what I'm talking about : P**

**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter….**

**I'll update soon!**

**X**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! **

**I hope you're enjoying this so far...**

**Please leave me a review, I'd love to know what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

**Onwards...**

Mycroft stared at him.

'Camping?' he repeated bleakly, shutting his eyes briefly. Mycroft Holmes had never been camping in his entire life.

'Yeah…' Greg nodded eagerly, pulling out a brochure and handing it over. Mycroft flicked through it while he talked. 'I know it looks all family orientated, but it's just a place to sleep really. It's the area which is worth it…' he tailed off to watch Mycroft as he read.

'In a tent?'

'Uh huh. Let's go back to our primal roots, My'

'I wasn't aware I had any' Mycroft said blandly, eyes not leaving the print in front of him.

'Oh come on! You spend your whole time in fancy expensive hotels; let's slum it for a week.' Greg beseeched.

'"Slum it"?' Mycroft looked positively alarmed now. 'In the mud, you mean?'

'Only if it rains' Greg told him. 'It'll be fun' he smiled widely. 'I promise'

Mycroft wasn't convinced. 'The curry is boiling' he said, standing up to move back over to the stove. He picked up the wooden spoon and slowly stirred the curry, chewing his lip, back to his partner.

Greg sighed and folded the brochure up again. He crossed his arms and slid around in his chair, so he was facing into the room.

'Why not?' he asked, eyebrow raised. 'Surely you're due some time- off?'

'Of course, Gregory' Mycroft turned around, wooden spoon held aloft. His face was pinched with what Greg could tell was annoyance. 'But why camping?'

'Because I haven't been for years and I thought it would be an experience for you' Greg stood up and moved towards his partner. 'Just for a week, My'

Mycroft sighed and stepped forwards, arms circling Greg around the middle. He buried his head in the crook of Gregory's neck, the comforting feeling on the policeman's short hair tickling his cheek. Of all the things he thought Greg would fling upon him, a surprise camping trip wasn't one of them; he could honestly think of nothing worse.

'If it would make you happy, I will do it' he murmured, huffing out a short laugh as he felt Greg smile.

'You may be right' Mycroft told him as he moved to get two bowls out of the cupboard.

'Huh?' Greg picked up his glass and drank deeply.

'It will be an experience for me' Mycroft spooned the rice and curry into separate bowls. Gregory took his and sat back down at the table. They sat in contented silence for a while, just the noise of forks against china breaking the reverie.

'And besides' Greg broke the silence.

Mycroft looked up expectantly, chewing.

'It'll be an excuse for you to get out of your suits'

'And just what is wrong with my suits?' Mycroft asked, eyebrows raised.

'Nothing! Just, it'll be nice to see you in something else, that's all.'

'Oh'

Silence reigned again.

'I don't have anything else but suits' Mycroft said, looking down at his attire. He had changed out of his work jacket and just wore a plain white shirt with dark blue cufflinks. These were his 'casual' clothes.

'Well…' Greg leaned forwards and gently kissed Mycroft on the mouth.

'We'll have to change that, won't we?'

-x-

'I'm not coming out'

'Oh, come on, My!'

'No' came the reply from the other side of the curtain.

'If you don't come out, I'm coming in!'

Gregory ignored the look from the member of staff standing by the changing room door. He had brought Mycroft out on a forced day-off to do some pre-holiday shopping.

The night before, when Greg had told Mycroft of his holiday plans, they had gone to their bedroom to look at the clothes Mycroft had. Apart from two dozen shirts, suit jackets, several different pairs of trousers and some rather bright cufflinks, he had nothing that could be considered 'normal' where they were going.

So Gregory had phoned in sick (it was for a good cause) and forced Mycroft to come shopping with him. Mycroft, to his credit, didn't protest; merely sighed dramatically and followed him .

After five more minutes of waiting, Gregory had had enough.

Mycroft was just pulling the t-shirt back over his head when he felt a flap of cold air around his bare middle.

'Good heavens!' he cried, arms stuck above his head. He relaxed when he heard a chuckle he recognised next to him and gentle hands pulled the t-shirt back down.

'I told you I'd come in' Greg told him brightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 'How did it look?'

'Ridiculous' Mycroft said flatly, looking down at the shirt. It was a light blue colour and tight in all the right places, Greg thought.

'You're getting it'

Mycroft sighed. 'Fine' he agreed. 'Can I take it off now?'

'Did you try on the shorts?'

'Gregory Lestrade, as much as I love you, I am not going to wear shorts.' Mycroft folded his arms. Greg snorted; he looked like a petulant child.

'Go on, do your pout' Greg chided him, grinning broadly when Mycroft stuck out his bottom lip, his own face breaking into a wide smile. He dragged the t-shirt back over his head.

'Ok, fine; no shorts' Greg thought for a moment. 'We'll find you some thin trousers'

'If you like' agreed Mycroft, buttoning up his baby blue shirt and slipping his tie back around his neck.

'You really don't mind?'

'Mind what? Thin trousers?' Mycroft smiled at him.

'No!' Greg thumped him gently on the arm. 'This; the holiday'

'No. I'm starting to come around to the idea.'

'Really?'

'Hmmm.'

Mycroft hung his shirt back on the hanger and picked up the unworn shorts. 'Can we go now?'

'Yep' Greg said brightly, flapping his way out from the changing room like a magician revealing a trick.

Mycroft suppressed a grin and followed him. 'I believe I have enough summer clothes now.' He said as he reached his partner, who was hovering by a rack of sunglasses. 'And besides-'

He reached over and gently took off a pair of oversized glasses Greg had just tried on. 'By all accounts, North Devon doesn't really have a good track record for sunlight.'

'So it rains a bit.' Greg shrugged, taking another pair off the rack and peering at his reflection. 'We'll just have to bring your trusted umbrella.'

Mycroft brightened up a bit at this and even tried on a pair of sunglasses. After finding a suitable pair, he took Greg by the elbow and led him to the checkouts.

'I suppose I get the best deal out of this' Mycroft smiled smugly as the lady at the till bagged up his clothes.

'My?'

'I assume I'm paying for all this?

'Well, they are your clothes'

Mycroft hummed out a laugh.

'And if you're good' Greg leaned in close and spoke in Mycroft's ear.

'I'll even buy you lunch'

'Fine' Mycroft turned his head so their cheeks brushed together for a few moments and moved forwards to pay.

Gregory smiled and took the bags to the car.

-x-

'One week to go, My'

Mycroft smiled into his pillow. Gregory had literally been counting down the days until their holiday and making a point of telling him how many days to go each morning.

He listened as Greg moved into the bathroom, turning to look at the clock on the bedside. 6.12. An early start from them it seemed.

Yawning deeply, he turned onto his back, the silk duvet skimming over his bare skin; he shivered in the cold morning air .He listened as Gregory turned the shower on, humming to himself. Mycroft smiled and stretched, staring up at the ceiling. He was expecting a very important phone call this morning.

He yawned again, then sat up straight in the bed, running a hand down his face. The space next to him was still warm.

He was about to say something to Greg when his phone rang. Sighing, he left the warmness of his bed and padded across the room to his desk.

'Mycroft Holmes speaking.'

He listened for a few minutes, interjecting with a few 'yes's and 'of courses' before putting down the phone again. He dressed as quickly as he could, buttoning up his suit with care, before moving into the en suit.

'Gregory?' he called through the masses of steam; his partner did enjoy his scalding hot showers.

'Yeah?'

'I've got to go to the office'

Greg could just make out the outline of Mycroft through the frosted glass and steam. 'Oh. Any idea when you'll be back?'

'None.'

Greg sighed loudly, but the sound was muffled by the shower.

'I'll see you later'

'Yeah, see you later!' Greg called back, resuming shampooing his hair.

He had a sickening feeling that this was going to be a trend over their holiday.

**Coming soon: the dreaded 5 hour car journey! :) **

**I hope you liked this :D**

**Back soon...**


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